


Lost

by kikaikitai



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, Post Season 2, Sad Ratchet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikaikitai/pseuds/kikaikitai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post season 2 finale "Darkest Hour". Ratchet. Sads and stuff. Written before season 3 came out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic!

It had been raining for three solar cycles. Garbage was stuck up under his lower tires. Soaked bunches of plastic bags, glass, even pieces of human kitchen appliances. Even if he used his blades every night to clear out the junk, it somehow ended up getting shoved back in there. A human trash dump might be an unsanitary hiding place for now, but it'd gotten him out of a game of cat-and-mouse with a silver Vehicon.

The medic wiped mud from his faceplate and kept his optical lights at a low setting. He hadn't yet seen a human there, but his shining blue eyes were definitely a giveaway to anyone else. His arm was numb, but at least it had stopped leaking. The mud stung his worn cables.

The last contact he had was with Arcee. Her vocalizer had been low, and Ratchet's audials picked up the sound of Jack coughing. What could he say? He didn't know anything about human biology. Keep him warm, find him food and water. It was obvious. "Stay hidden," Ratchet had said to her. "Don't use up fuel unless you have to."

"Okay, boss," she'd said. Ratchet's denta ground hard at that word. Boss. He forced the word to fizzle out in his processor. Which wasn't hard considering he was running on fumes. Energon deficiency made a mech's thoughts muddle together, incomplete codes and executions. Once or twice an audial memory fired up and caused his spark to jolt. It was always Optimus.

_"I will ensure that the Decepticons do not follow."_

No matter how many times he opened his HUD and stared at the readings, he refused to stop opening his commlink.

"Optimus," he called, vents halted, audials booted up to maximum power. The rain was loud against his helm.

Static. He could hear his plating clattering. He could tell himself it was the rain or the empty tank. Or maybe his stabilizers were loose.

"Optimus."

He could tell himself his optics were flooded with rain water. He could argue that the sockets were shorted and couldn't flush themselves properly from all of the mud.

_"Please..."_


End file.
